


The Ballad of Sally Jo

by Daraasum



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Romance, Slow Burn, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daraasum/pseuds/Daraasum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The long road ahead of Sally Jo, known to a select few as Courier Six, began in a Goodsprings cemetery. Even she doesn't know where it'll lead. She's a liar and a cheat and she's bad news- so when she makes the acquaintance of one Craig Boone, things go a direction neither of them expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One For My Baby

**Author's Note:**

> A project I'll be updating as much/as often as I can. But be patient with me, for I am a humble student at the mercy of university. Craig Boone is a beautiful potato. Enjoy.

Jeannie May Crawford felt as if her head had only just hit the pillow before she woke with a start, her scream muffled by a hand over her mouth and the sound of a pistol being cocked in front of her face. “You, come with me.” A woman’s voice hissed. Jeannie didn’t need her glasses to tell it was the new face in Novac. The mystery woman who signed her name in Jeannie’s hotel ledger- Ms. Jo.

Jeannie whimpered and the cold muzzle of the pistol pressed against her forehead. “Get up. Now. And do what I say. Your life’s in danger.” The gun and hand came away long enough for Jeannie to sit up and grab her glasses, shove her feet into her shoes, and get a look at Ms. Jo.

She’d blown into town looking like she’d walked through a dust storm or worse, barely speaking as she set down the caps for her room. Jeannie had tried to make pleasant conversation as best she could, but her guest gave her scarcely a word or two, or worse, a vague grunt. There wasn’t anything Jeannie hated as much as that attitude from a traveler. Treating Novac and its residents like the dust under their boots, renting a room and disappearing in the morning like they couldn’t wait to get out of her town.

Jeannie’s heart leapt into her throat when Jo pointed her to the front door. Her eyes adjusted to the dark of her small house, and she said a silent prayer that she’d see her bed again.

“Stay quiet and act casual.” Jo muttered as they passed the threshold and started walking away from the house. Her hand closed around Jeannie’s arm in a steel grip. Jeannie had no idea what time it was. No time that decent people were out and about, she ventured, judging by how high the moon was in the clear night sky above. Moonlight lit up Novac in a pale glow and cast deep, dark shadows behind every building and wall. Any other night, Jeannie would have taken a deep breath of the cool air, enjoying the contrast to the blinding sunlight and suffocating heat of the daytime. Now, her heart was beating so quickly she thought she’d faint. Ms. Jo said her life was in danger. From who? From her? Or something more sinister?

A cold breeze blew right through Jeannie’s nightgown and she hugged herself, biting down on her lip to stifle a fearful noise. How in the world a desert could be so cold at night and so scorching during the day, she didn’t know. Another cruel game of an uncaring god, Jeannie had always figured. Just like the woman holding her arm so tight that Jeannie feared it’d break.

“Please, please, I have caps, I have supplies, I-”

“Shh.” Jeannie’s begging was cut off, and she was pulled to a halt. Her stomach dropped. Her mind raced to the pistol she knew the woman still carried, remembering the feel of the barrel on her forehead and imagined it there again, or pressed to the back of her skull. “I’m letting go now. Don’t run. Stay close to me.”

“What are you doing?” Jeannie’s voice wavered. “God, please, what’s happening?”

“Legion. Like I said, you’re in danger. You need to follow me and be quiet.”

“Oh God,” Jeannie whispered, clamping her hands over her mouth when her arm was released. A nudge to her back got her moving along again. Her legs could barely carry her for the trembling of her knees. She didn’t dare turn her head; the sound of gravel crunching under boots told her that Ms. Jo was still close by. They were walking past the gates to the hotel, along the road that ran past that god-awful ugly dinosaur. Jeannie almost considered crying out to Boone for help, but she thought about the pistol pressed to her brow again.

God, as if she had any right to ask poor Craig for help. Jeannie swallowed to fight the urge to vomit rising up in her throat. Ms. Jo had said Legion. Did the deal go sour? If they wanted their caps back, well, they were long gone, she needed to eat, and the hotel didn’t see much business, but the Legion didn’t care about any of that nonsense. They passed the dinosaur, and Jeannie looked just long enough to see a long gun barrel, peeking between the giant lizard’s teeth. _Craig, help me_ , she begged silently.

She was being led into the desert, and she wanted to protest. Her nightgown wouldn’t protect her from any of the elements, hot or cold or wind or sun, and there was nothing in that direction that she knew of. She hadn’t ventured outside Novac in years. Her mind quickly calculated: What was her chance of making it back to her house if she just turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her? Slim to none, Jeannie assured herself when she caught a glimpse of the shiny metal of Ms. Jo’s gun, swinging in her hand by her side.

They climbed a small rise in the dirt and the crunching of footsteps beside Jeannie halted. “Stop here.” Ms. Jo’s voice, low and calm, ordered. Jeannie felt hot, terrified tears bubbling up in her eyes. Her papa had told her what happened to gamblers who racked up too many debts, or got caught cheating, on the Strip. _Took ‘em out in the desert, n’ pop!_ He’d make the shape of a gun with his hand, _and toss ‘em in a hole. Bad men on the Strip, Jeannie, no place for decent folk like us._

“Miss, Miss, please,” Jeannie May Crawford hadn’t blubbered in a good forty years, but anyone would call what she was doing blubbering. “Please, I haven’t done anything, please, tell me what’s happening.” She spoke quietly, eyes darting around the dark desert lying flat in all directions around her. Turning, she looked at Ms. Jo just in time to see the brown-skinned woman haphazardly slapping a beret on top of short black hair. A red beret. Craig and Manny had ones just like it. Did she know them? Jeannie’s heart unclenched only barely. Ms. Jo was NCR, she had to be. On some secret mission to drive the Legion away from Novac, God bless her heart.

The sharp crack of a rifle caught her from her relieved reverie, and that was the last thing Jeannie May Crawford ever knew.

-

Jo was grateful she took a step back, or she would have had brains all over her only set of clothes. She’d be justifiably pissed if her jacket got messed up. Slipping the First Recon beret off of her head, Jo leaned over the corpse. Mostly headless, but she could tell a good shot when she saw one. The bullet had gotten old Jeannie May in the right spot. Jo let out a long, low whistle of appreciation. No wonder Boone was First Recon. And a good thing she wasn’t going to be on the business end of that rifle anytime soon.

It must have been past midnight by her estimation. A little settlement like Novac, everyone but the night watch was in bed by this time. Nobody stayed up late unless it was their job way out in the Mojave, because what was there to do but work and sleep?

By the time she’d climbed the stairs into the dinosaur, the late night was starting to wear on her. The room she’d paid for had running water, but Jo wasn’t sure she had the energy to clean herself up. Another thing to do in the morning if she could manage to sleep while feeling like most of the Mojave was stuck in her nooks and crannies.

Boone was turning to face her when Jo opened the door into the sniper’s perch. His expression was impossible to make out for the haze of cigarette smoke and the dark-tinted aviators covering his eyes. Jo wondered why in the hell any sniper would wear sunglasses at night, but he’d seen well enough to pop Jeannie May’s head off, so she supposed it wasn’t hurting his aim.

“Here.” She saw his mouth opening to question her and beat him to the punch, taking the crumpled bill of sale from her pocket. Boone snatched it as soon as the paper was in arm’s reach. He turned, stalking to the opening of the dinosaur’s mouth where the pale moonlight streamed in. Jo could only barely make out the sound of him reading the words under his breath. She folded her arms and leaned back against the closed door. It didn’t really seem decent to demand her payment and run off right away. She’d wait.

Boone’s shoulders slumped. He cursed quietly. The bill of sale was ripped to shreds methodically, in half, in half again, and again, bits of torn paper falling to the ground like leaves through his fingers. Jo didn’t blame him. She’d read the thing after finding it tucked neatly into a file in the hotel safe, and it made her feel almost sick to her stomach. Typical Legion bullshit. She’d never met Carla, and even with as bad as the townsfolk talked about her, it wasn’t right in Jo’s mind to see a woman and her baby being talked about like a pair of Brahmin for sale.

“Want your hat back?” Jo swept the red beret off of her head. She’d almost forgotten she was wearing it. Boone’s silhouette in front of her was still for a moment before he turned around again.

Boone muttered something that could have been thanks. He didn’t snatch the beret like he had the bill of sale, only took it from Jo’s hand and gave it a once over. Satisfied that it hadn’t been damaged, replaced, or splatted with brains, Boone huffed through his nose and slapped his beret back on. “Caps are in my place. C’mon.”

If she didn’t fall asleep on her feet as she dragged across the courtyard, trailing behind Boone, Jo would thank whatever god or spirit that was watching over her. On her hands and knees, even. She’d sleep on the broken chunks of asphalt.

“Hey. You alright?”

Boone’s voice cut through Jo’s thoughts like a gunshot snapping her to attention. He held a bag in his hand, stretched out to her, but he was peering over the edge of his sunglasses at her with his brow furrowed. That was a five-head, not a forehead, if Jo ever saw one, but…

How’d she get there?

“Fuck. Yeah, I’m fine. Need some sleep.” She shook her head, hand unconsciously touching the ugly bullet wound stitched together at her temple. Shit. The first time she’d lost a couple of minutes, she’d put it down to the sheer boredom of walking through the Mojave combined with the heat of the midday sun. Now, maybe the exhaustion. Yeah, that was it. She could have been sleeping on her feet. Somehow.

Jo took the caps from Boone, enjoying the familiar weight of good pay in her hands. It’d been way too long. But somehow, thanking him didn’t seem appropriate. Hell, nothing seemed appropriate about the whole affair, and nothing seemed like the right thing to say.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your wife.” Jo managed to mutter. Boone sighed, taking off his sunglasses to clean the dark lenses on his shirt. She got a look at his eyes for the first time; Beady and green, narrowed, his tiredness showing in the hint of redness in the whites and dark shadows underneath. Jo had been in the Mojave long enough to know a man who’d seen a lot, and Boone was one of those men.

Almost as soon as she’d had the briefest of looks, Boone slid his glasses back on, back to the unreadable stone expression she’d been getting used to. “Thanks for the help. You didn’t have to do what you did, you know.” Jo only responded with a brief noise of acknowledgement. Not a good time to say, _I did it because I’m flat broke._ “I’d better not stay here. You shouldn’t either.” Boone tilted his head in Jo’s direction.

“I’ll head out in the morning.” Jo repressed a yawn, face contorting in a way that she was certain looked uglier than a Brahmin’s south end.

“Not a good idea.” Boone’s eyebrows twitched down into a concerned look, or what seemed to pass for one with his face. “Unless you want to answer for Miss Jeannie out there-“ Boone gestured in the direction past the dinosaur. “Need to get moving.”

Jo folded her arms and set her jaw. She didn’t like that tone, one she’d heard from men up and down the 95, looking down their noses at her like they knew best. Sure, he probably didn’t mean to, but Jo resented it all the same. “I’ll get moving on my own time.” She snapped and turned on her heel before Boone could protest again. “Take care, Boone.”

 


	2. Another One For The Road

****The wall colliding with her back and the forearm pressed against her throat worked in tandem to knock the air completely out of Jo’s lungs. She wheezed pitifully for a moment before Manny let up only barely so she could breathe. “Where’s Boone?” He snapped again.

“Get off me!” Jo felt panic bubbling up in her gut, the proximity of the ex-soldier and the pure rage she felt radiating off of his glare making her feel closed in and trapped and she needed out. She lashed her leg out, hard, her knee making a sickening _whump_ against Manny’s stomach. He cursed, doubling over barely enough to give Jo room to shove him away. “I don’t know where he is, I told you!”

“You’re a lying- ugh.. lying bitch, and you know it.” Manny coughed and spat a mouthful of spit in the dirt. “Jeannie May’s dead, and Boone’s gone, took his gun and his bug-out bag.” He seemed reluctant to put his hands on Jo again, but he was still between her and escape, and she knew she didn’t have the weight to knock him off his feet. “Cliff said you were up talking to Boone when he closed up shop. What happened?”

“No idea.” Jo stared Manny down like an angry bighorn. She knew her hands were shaking, and her stomach along with them, but she had to steel herself. Her pistol and switchblade were in the dirt between the two of them; Jo was quick, but NCR boys could usually disarm an aggressor with one hand behind their back and blindfolded.

“Liar.” Manny’s fingers twitched around the handle of the big knife strapped to his hip, clenching for a moment before he released it. He stood back up straight, folding his arms and returning Jo’s hard stare. “We don’t take kindly to shady business in Novac, miss. And you’re outnumbered here. Talk.” Rocks crunched under his boots as Manny shifted his weight, his stance and expression sending a clear message: _I can do this as long as it takes._ Jo decided that she could, too. She leaned back against the brick wall of the hotel, thankful the morning sun hadn’t touched that little corner yet to turn the wall into a scorching source of pain.

“I did Boone a favor. You wanna know the rest, go find him.” She rummaged in her pockets for her pack of cigarettes. Her nerves were jangling like loose spurs, and she would have bet in that moment that she’d have killed someone for a smoke. Probably Manny, but he didn’t look like a smoker to her. “I’m leaving town once I find out where those Khans were headed. I know they were here.”

Manny’s scowl deepened so much that he’d probably have permanent wrinkles from his talk with Jo. “And I know you had something to do with Jeannie May’s head getting blown off and Boone clearing out of here like Caesar’s dogs were on his ass. The fuck happened?” He stepped towards Jo, his boot pushing her switchblade into the desert floor. “You tell me, and you can walk out of here and after your friends. Or go rot in the desert for all I care. You’re some bad news Strip girl, I can tell. And I’ve had enough of your type to last me a lifetime.”

Jo gritted her teeth. If he was talking about Carla, she wouldn’t object to knocking his front teeth out before she went on her way. For a woman Jo had never met, Carla had wormed her way into Jo’s heart, ever so sneakily, and she finally understood why Boone and Manny weren’t on good terms anymore. “I’m not inclined to talk to people I don’t trust. I haven’t had a good week, y’see.” She pointedly tapped on the scarring bullet wound on her temple. Her hair, thankfully, was growing back fast from being trimmed for emergency bullet removal, though the awkward choppy cut unfortunately eliminated Doc Mitchell from being allowed to give her a haircut ever again. If she ever decided to wander back to Goodsprings.

Manny exhaled through his nose, long and harsh, his brow furrowing in frustration. A long moment passed, long enough to Jo to contemplate escape strategy again. _Take out his knee and run for the road before he can get up_ …

Sweeping the First Recon beret off of his head, Manny tossed it at Jo. “Call that a promise. I’ll let you walk out of here without any trouble. I…” He sighed again, scuffing his boot aimlessly against the ground. “This isn’t like Boone, and I need answers.”

Jo turned the beret over in her hands. Not as well-kept as Boone’s, for certain. The band that held the hat snug around the wearer’s head was worn and starting to break in one spot, and it looked lightened by sunshine on the top. Of course Boone would have kept his in pristine condition. Whether for old time’s sake, or some bit of the soldier in him that forced the old habits to stick around. Maybe he wanted it to look nice for Carla. Not like Jo could- or would- ask.

“Boone offered me some caps to find out what happened to Carla. I poked around a bit, found a bill of sale in the hotel.” Jo let the words tumble out, bleary memories of the night before bubbling up to the surface of her mind. “Jeannie sold Carla to the Legion. And she was gonna get extra caps for the baby. Boone had me take her out in front of the perch and give him a signal. It was quick.”

Manny muttered a few curse words, looking down and putting his hand against his forehead. Jo felt a distinct sensation of having lived the situation before. Beret in her hands, awkwardly standing by while a man tried to process the truth about sweet old Jeannie, who sold a mother and baby- two-thirds of a family, Jo thought with her stomach knotting in discomfort- for a few caps. “Happy? Wanna hear the details?” She snapped. She didn’t have it in her to be as kind to Manny as she had been to Boone. When Manny shook his head no, Jo rolled her eyes. “Fine. Now tell me what I need, Manny. Directions. East, west, where’d those Khan dicks go?”

Manny sighed heavily, sliding his hand off of his face. “Boulder city. Not far ahead of you.” He stepped back and to Jo’s left, giving her a wide berth to walk past time. “Just get out. And I wouldn’t come back to Novac if I was you.” Jo held the beret out to him, and he pushed it away.

“Keep it. First Recon’s not me anymore. Toss it to Boone if you see him, or sell it. Do whatever you want, just. Go.”

“Nice talk, Manny.” Jo grumbled, stooping to grab her gun and knife out of the dirt before she stalked past Manny, who seemed determined to pretend she wasn’t there. The sun was climbing higher in the sky as she walked through the gates of Novac, watching Manny silently making his way back to the dinosaur. She wanted to feel sorry for him, almost. Someone was gonna have to cover Boone’s night shift, after all. Her switchblade didn’t flip out like it was supposed to, after Manny’s boot had dented it. She didn’t feel so sympathetic after all. She could sell the damn beret to get a new one.

A few miles down the road, and Jo was thankful for the beret. Her favorite hat must have gotten blown away, or just plain dropped, when those goons had grabbed her back outside of Primm. She’d barely been ready to get on the road with her delivery, hadn’t even gotten her boots laced inside the tent that she and Daniel had pitched. All she had to do was for Daniel to get back from Primm with the rest of their supplies. Her stomach twisted. They must have shot him then, just outside of the Mojave Express depot. Then the asshole in that checkered suit, the image of which she’d have imprinted in her hazy memories from that night for the rest of her life, came and got her. Had Daniel sold her out, or maybe they’d forced the information about what she was carrying. Fucking platinum chip. She should have known something was up the second she and Danny compared jobs and realized they were going to the same place, with a pair of fuzzy dice and a chip that felt heavier than a clip of bullets in her pocket. Poor Danny. Poor Jo.

The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed out across the quiet desert and Jo was down on her belly in record time, eyes darting around to try and find the source. It didn’t sound like it was aimed at her, but a girl who’d had a bullet dug out of her brain recently couldn’t be too careful. It wasn’t Legion- they didn’t have guns, as far as she’d been told. She’d seen Vipers outside of Novac on her way in, and there were always Fiends, not to mention the Powder Gangers that had popped up since she’d woken up in Goodsprings. She’d be surprised to see anyone who didn’t want to shoot a lone Courier on foot.

Another gunshot made her hug the ground harder. She needed better cover if there was a gunfight going on. This time, she was certain she knew the sound. She’d heard it less than a second before Jeannie May was dead in the Mojave’s red dirt. “No way,” she hissed under her breath. “No fuckin’ way.”

A grouping of dead bushes beside the road looked like the only close cover. Jo dug her elbows into the dirt to drag herself into what scarcely passed for a hiding spot, breath held and brown eyes flicking side to side and scanning the road ahead. Nothing in sight save for a lone tumbleweed and the road disappearing into the horizon, cutting between the tall hills and rocks jutting out of the earth. Letting out a slow exhale, Jo flattened herself into the dirt as close as her body could manage. The sun was burning into the back of the jacket she’d picked up in Primm, baking her inside her clothes. Jo hissed out another curse at the sound of yet another shot breaking the hot, heavy air, reaching down to her waist to fumble for her pistol. A quick check of the magazine gave her a bit of ease. If the fight came to her, she had enough bullets.

“Spread out and find them!” A distant voice rang out, making Jo flatten out again as soon as she’d lifted her head. She could hear footsteps and clanking metal that said one thing to her: Legionary armor. She flicked off the safety of her pistol. Nobody in the Mojave ever had a single qualm about getting a shot off at one of the Legion. The mystery shooter- even if she had a strong feeling who they were- was way ahead of her. Jo gave another quick scan of the landscape. The voices and shots were ahead of her, probably in the rocks on either side of the road. She needed to get up higher and in better cover. The sounds of armor clattering and shouting were still distant enough to give her the ease to make a move.

Dirt and dust kicked up around her as Jo was up like a shot, crouching and running for the side of the road where the rocks began to rise up and enclose the road between nearly claustrophobic walls. The hiding places in the rocks were thankfully more plentiful and more secure than dried bushes. Jo tucked herself into an outcrop, legs tucked up to her chest and still clutching her gun with finger on the trigger. No signs that she had been spotted yet, and no visuals on the Legionaries. “Shit.” She muttered under her breath. Heading up the road wasn’t really an option anymore. Jo checked her gun again, flicking away a speck of dirt from the barrel.

Her blood froze in her veins when she heard a voice, behind her hiding place. Footsteps accompanied the speaker. Two, and the familiar sound of clanking metal plate, so two Legion soldiers. Jo could practically hear their breathing. Too close for comfort. “Degenerate piece of NCR scum can’t be far. I saw him run through here, and he’s downed two men already.”

The gunshots were going to draw attention. Jo inhaled, held it, said a prayer, gripped the pistol hard, and stood up from out of her hiding place, spinning to see two men in Legion uniforms standing not two yards from her.

“Don’t mo-!” One of them shouted out as Jo squeezed the trigger, bullet tearing into his face between his eyes. His friend jumped back, brandishing his sword at her and shouting something about a degenerate whore, but three rounds to the chest kept him from finishing. He collapsed next to the other with both dead soldiers staining the earth beneath them with oozing blood. Jo held back a gag, lifting her bandanna over her mouth. God help her, but even after Jeannie May, exploded heads were not something she would ever be used to.

More than glad to get away from the corpses, Jo obeyed the nagging instinct of _go, go, go_ and ran as best she could while staying low to the ground, eyes darting around for any leftover Legion come running at the gunshot. She could see one crumpled on the middle of the road a few yards ahead. One of the two that the other shooter had taken down. At least four were dead, by her calculations, and she wondered if she had just run into a few stragglers out in the Mojave, or scouts from a nearby camp.

Her heart jumped into her throat when something hit her on the side of the head, small and rough, and she whipped to the side it came from, gun out and ready to blow open whoever was ambushing her with a pebble.

Boone stared right back at her, sunglasses slipped down his nose and hands in the air, clutching a pebble in one hand. He’d thrown one to get her attention, quietly, and he’d come an inch from death considering Jo had already killed two men that day. She frowned and lowered her gun. “Goddamn it! I almost shot you!”

“Shut up!” Boone hissed, gesturing at her to get behind the rocks with him, jerky motions of his finger that continued until she’d settled into the hidey hole beside him. He’d set up something of a little sniper’s perch by the road, bed roll and his bag laid out beside his propped up rifle. “There’s still one. Probably heard you by now.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Jo grumbled. She tried to stretch up on her knees to check around them, but Boone grasped her arm and pulled her back down. She growled under her breath, eyes narrowing, and Boone let go, but he seemed unfazed by her aggressive behavior. He stayed silent, motioning over the rock with his hand before he straightened up himself, peering down the sights of his gun. “See anything?” She whispered.

Boone shook his head briefly. The gun held steady in his hands, he scanned back and forth a few inches, breath held and gaze unbroken, waiting a long moment before exhaling and sitting back down. “Bastard must have run off.”

“No wonder,” Jo sighed, leaning back and stretching until she felt her spine pop and groaned in delight. “Nice seeing you again, Boone.”

“Likewise, Miss Jo.”


	3. In the Shadow of the Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wooo we're back, it's summer vacation, I've actually been to Las Vegas and flew over Boulder City on my way in since the last chapter! Let's get back to Boone and Jo and watch them bond a little.

Boone had wanted to get a mile or two between them and the site of the miniature showdown with the Legion, and Jo was more than happy to oblige. Boulder City was probably still half a day’s walk, if she remembered rightly. Her half-empty canteen was just going to have to last until then. She shook the blue canteen just to check, sighing at the sound of sloshing, confirming that yes, she was running low. Jo shrugged and unscrewed the cap to drink anyway. The faint squeak of another canteen opening and the sound of gulps and heavy breaths told Jo that Boone had the same idea as her. The water running down her dry throat almost got her to moan in bliss. Good, clean, water beat the fanciest booze to cheer Jo up any day.

“Heading anywhere, Boone?” Jo asked once she got her breath back from a large gulp.

“No.”

A man of few words. Her daddy would have loved Boone. “Just planning on wandering around and popping Legion in the head until you drop, huh?” She joked.

“No.”

His blunt tone made Jo worry that she’d pissed him off, until he spoke again. “Thought I’d shoot some Powder Gangers too. Or Fiends. Khans, maybe.”

Must have been the closest thing he could make to a joke. Jo shook her head, making a half-laugh, half disapproving tut. “Sheesh. Remind me not to piss you off.” Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if Boone was serious. He seemed like the type to enjoy clearing out the less savory types in the Mojave with just a little more vigor than was decent. Then again, nothing out in the desert was decent anymore.

“Don’t worry about it. Owe you one anyway.” Boone pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, tapping one out into his hand. The smoke wafted Jo’s direction in the faint breeze as he lit it and puffed once, then twice. She felt her mouth practically watering at the scent. God damn. Her pack had run out before Novac was out of sight behind her, and the craving was hitting hard.

She shot her hand out towards the pack still in Boone’s hand, walking sideways in uneasy steps to keep up with his pace. “Gimme one of those and we’re even.” Boone stared at her a moment, dumbfounded, while she flapped her hand open and shut in midair. “Come on. I just need one. I’m all out. Be a pal.”

“Here.” The pack was unceremoniously tossed at Jo, hitting her hand and dropping to the dirt when she failed to catch it. “Doesn’t really make even, you know.” Boone slowed to a stop long enough for Jo to snatch the pack up. She dusted it off with a couple swipes of her fingers and tapped a cigarette out for herself.  

“You should just call it even, pal. I always call in a favor at the end.” Jo snickered, watching the first long drag of smoke flowing out from between her lips. Christ in a canoe, but it tasted good. A cigarette and some clean water were all she needed to get her to Boulder City, thanks to the gecko jerky she and Boone had shared a mile back. She was still in the mood for some real food. Her last decent, mostly fresh, meal had been way back down the road, before Novac, even. Boone’s job for her had made Jo miss a hot meal. She was of half a mind to make him buy her one, just to make up for it.

Food aside, the first thing she wanted in Boulder City was a place to stay that had a real mattress, and somewhere to wash up. She hadn’t had a chance to get a good bath in since Goodsprings, and while Jo was no stranger to the dirty life of the Mojave, she wasn’t the type to live with a permanent layer of the desert covering her body. If she hadn’t been traveling alone with a man she’d only known long enough to hatch a murder plot with, Jo wouldn’t have minded jumping into the next little stream she saw for a skinny dip. She chuckled quietly around her cigarette. If guns were waterproof, she’d just take her pistol swimming with her and call it good.

Another mile and another cigarette each passed before Boone spoke again. “That Vargas’s beret?”

The beret. Jo had nearly forgotten about it. She grabbed it off of her head, examining the red fabric under her fingers. A fleck of ash fell on the patch, and she brushed it off quickly. _The last thing you’ll never see._ Clever. “Yeah. Threw it at me when he told me to get my tail out of Novac. I can see why you’re friends.”

“Not my friend.” Boone grunted. “Just making sure.”

_Making sure I didn’t pop one in Manny’s head, too,_ Jo thought spitefully, fitting it back on her head as soon as she felt her scalp beginning to heat up in the sun. He wasn’t kicking up any shit about her not “earning” the beret, like she would expect from an NCR boy. Not that she minded at all. She didn’t have time to argue about the right she had to wear a special hat in the middle of a sun-baked desert. She’d wear a damn NCR flag as a head wrap if she needed to.

“I still owe you one.” Boone ignored the lack of a reply on Jo’s part, flicking his glowing cigarette butt away into the dirt. “What are you after in Boulder City?”

“Khans.” Jo swore she saw Boone flinch when she said it, but it probably wasn’t the answer he was expecting. She brushed aside the hair that fell just barely over her bullet wound. “See that?” Boone nodded silently. “The guy who did that, he had Khans with him. And last I heard, they were headed up Boulder City way.”

“Shit.” Boone muttered. “When did that happen?”

“Uh, couple weeks ago, apparently. Felt like a day, but the Doc said I’d been out for nine.” Jo grinned. It almost felt like a brag. She’d brushed off a bullet to the head like it wasn’t anything more than a bad fever. A repeat performance probably wasn’t in the books, but she could use that story for a few shocked looks down the road. And a few drinks if she played her cards right.

“What the hell did you do?” Boone’s tone sounded surprised. Maybe even awed.

Jo blew a long puff of smoke before answering. The grey vapors barely left her lips before the hot, dry, wind blew them away. “Dunno. I was carrying a package, and that jackass in the ugly suit wanted it, I guess. It all sounds like Strip bigshot bullshit to me. Poker chips and bad deals and who knows what.” She muttered the last few words, scraping her boot in the dirt to frighten away a centipede in her path.

“You’re a courier then.” Boone commented.

“Yeah.” Jo snorted. “What’d you think I was?”

Boone shrugged. “Merc, maybe. Thought you were a prospector when you came into town. Cliff tried to bet me ten caps you were a Powder Ganger on the run.” He slid his beret off of his head. One receding hairline and blonde hair in a short buzz cut- standard NCR boy style- gave him the look of being practically bald. Boone scratched his short hair for a moment before rubbing his palm over his scalp, putting the beret back in place when he was done. He had a tan line where the band rested.  Jo finished her cigarette with a snicker hidden under a cough, flicking the butt away like Boone had done. It spun in the air and landed maybe a foot away from her, the glow fading until it was replaced with a thin stream of smoke.

“And I bet you were smart enough to remember the NCR doesn’t have co-ed prisons, right?” Boone grunted in a reply she assumed was affirmative. Jo shook her canteen. Only a couple of gulps left, and still at least a few hours until they hit Boulder City. The sun was beginning to sink low in the horizon, but the desert was still scorching as ever, and the cigarettes hadn’t helped her dry throat. She sighed. If she was thirsty now, she’d be thirsty down the road, Jo reasoned, draining the last of her water in two greedy swigs. “Shit,” She gasped at the end. “Hope Boulder City’s got cheap water.” There was a Nuka-Cola stashed in her pack somewhere, but Jo know that the sickeningly sweet drink only made dehydration worse. Anyway, she’d wanted to save it for a celebration. Blowing a hole in the fucker with the checkered suit would be good cause for a treat.

The sun sank lower behind the mountains and Jo felt like her feet were going to fall apart underneath her. Boone, of course, showed no discomfort. She spat some tired, frustrated curses at him in her mind, trying not to trip over rocks while she fiddled with her Pip-Boy. The thing was still heavy on her wrist like a brick, but it’d been a lifesaver if only for the map loaded into it.

“Can’t you turn that light down? Or off?” Boone grumbled, jabbing a finger in the direction of the green glow the Pip-Boy gave off.

“What’s wrong with it?” Jo turned a knob to zoom the map in. Only about half an hour until they hit city limits, thank Christ.

Boone might have been rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses for the tone he used. “Because it’s getting dark. That light makes a damn good target, you know.”

“Fine.” Her tone was sharper than she wanted it to come out, but Jo was running on very little sleep, a headache, and no water. Jo’s new best friend was treading into some risky territory. “Wouldn’t want anyone coming along and ruining this pleasant walk, right?” She quipped, oozing sarcasm. Boone, to his credit, didn’t rise to her bait and kept quiet as Jo turned the Pip-Boy off again.

They were walking in almost complete darkness by the time the faint lights of Boulder City drew close. Jo nearly turned her ankle almost a dozen times, and she was reaching her limits. Her headache was not going away, much less the tired aches all over her body, and she kept feeling uncomfortable shivers of exhaustion running through her. Lo and behold, but Boulder City looked like as much of a tiny shithole as every other little town out in the Mojave. Jo’s prayers for a hot bath weren’t looking so promising.

“Hold up.” Boone’s hand clamped down on Jo’s upper arm, pulling her to a halt from her exhausted trudging. Jo twisted herself free before he’d even had a hold on her for a second, scowling in his direction. He ignored the scowl and pointed to a small group of soldiers gathered by one of the buildings. “Lot of NCR here. Don’t look like they’re on leave either.”

“What makes you say that?” Jo glanced between Boone and the soldiers.

“Because nobody takes their guns on leave.” Boone muttered. He let out a long exhale through his nose before nudging Jo’s back, urging her to walk again. “Your Khans might have run into some trouble here.”

Jo picked up the pace again in the direction Boone nudged her, down the seemingly only street in Boulder City. The name must have been pre-war, nobody in their right mind would look at the few crumbled buildings and say it was a city. If her Pip-Boy hadn’t marked it, Jo was certain she’d have just kept walking.

“Something’s up.” Boone muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Jo to hear. She was inclined to agree. Too many soldiers, not enough… hell, she didn’t see _any_ normal people around. Her stomach twisted. If the Khans she was after had gotten themselves killed in a hair of NCR bullets, the fucker’s trail was going to go colder than nuclear winter. Or if Mr. Plaid-Suit had gotten himself killed too, she wasn’t getting the satisfaction of blowing his head open, or finding out why he shot her in the first place.

“I’m finding out what’s going on here. Got any clue who’s in charge? I can’t tell ranks.” Jo whispered to Boone, who grunted and stayed silent for a long moment. Some of the soldiers milling around had taken notice of the duo, elbowing each other and whispering in the ear of the soldier next to them. One weedy-looking private pointed at Boone’s beret before she saw Jo glancing at her. “Got any First Recon perks you can cash in, Boone?”

“No.” Boone, blank as ever, pointed to a man in uniform and green beret, standing at the end of the road. “He’s an LT. Better talk to him.”

“I owe you a beer.” Jo slapped Boone on the shoulder, steps quickening to carry her towards her only lead. The fear of the Khans and their boss being riddled with bullet holes still nagged in the back of her mind, but Jo considered herself nothing if not optimistic. Kill the fucker in plaid. Get the platinum chip back. Make her delivery. Get paid. She had no sooner opened her mouth to speak to the LT than he was snapping at her.

“We didn’t send for First Recon. What are you doing here?” Jo caught a glimpse of a name on the LT’s uniform before he crossed his arms, staring Jo down. Monroe. She looked back at Boone, but he’d apparently elected to keep a few yards back. It was down to her and Lt. Monroe.

“What’s going on here?” She mustered her most confident, _don’t mess with me_ , voice. Her back straightened and she folded her arms in a direct mirror of the sour-looking soldier in front of her.

“You don’t know?” Monroe’s expression took on an air of confusion. He looked between Jo and Boone both before clearing his throat. “So… Brass didn’t send you to help, then?”

“Not First Recon, sir.” Boone spoke up before Jo had to stand there too long with her mouth flapping noiselessly in a desperate search for words. “Former. Beret’s a souvenir.” Jo realized she was still wearing Vargas’ beret when Boone swept it off her head, leaving her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. She’d blame her slowness to realize what the confusion was on a light case of sunstroke. “My, uh… my friend, she had some trouble with some Khans. Been tracking them from Novac.” Boone explained while Jo nodded silently.

“Khans. Of-fucking-course.” Monroe groaned. “I’m not a man who believes in coincidences. Ma’am, you’ve found your Khans. They’re holed up in the ruins-“ He gestured towards the high walls running along the street, and the closed gate they stood beside, “With two of my men hostage. Whatever problem you’re got with them isn’t worth going in there.”

“They stole something from me.” Jo said, managing to keep her tone clear of hostility. “And I really need them alive.” She felt the sensation of impending failure setting in again. If the Khans died in a shootout, or some half baked escape attempt… And with NCR in the way, getting to them had just gotten a lot harder.

If Monroe sighed any harder, Jo was going to punch him in his smug face. “Once the situation is resolved, we’ll see what we can do about your stolen property. But I have two privates in the ruins and their lives are on the line. Orders are to keep the ruins on lockdown until the situation is resolved.” He sounded so collected that Jo considered challenging him on how dire the situation actually was.

“Waiting on negotiators then? Or reinforcements?” Boone questioned.

“Whatever McCarran sends us.” Monroe shook his head. “But it’s been hours. And the longer my men are in there with those drugged up lunatics, the more chance I’ll be writing my condolences to their families.”

Jo braced herself in preparation for what she’d consider the be the stupidest thing she’d said in her entire life. “Let me go in then!” She blurted.

Both Boone and Monroe stared at her in disbelief, and all Jo could think to do was to go on. “Look, I’m neutral to them, or I’m not NCR, and NCR is probably the last thing they want to negotiate with right now. If you think there’s any better option before your reinforcements show up, then tell me no. But nobody here wants to sit on their ass until dawn.” She stared Monroe right in the eyes, refusing to break gaze. She had to convince him. “Do you?”

Monroe held her gaze, but he was crumbling. It was a long moment before his shoulders slumped. “You’re right. But if those men don’t make it out alive… It’s on you.” He turned, gesturing to a soldier by the gate to open up.

Fear nearly froze Jo on the spot. A breeze cooled the drying sweat on her body, making her shiver uncontrollably. The dark ruins ahead of her and the weight of what she was about to do had Jo feeling small, weak, even powerless.

A gentle nudge on her back settled her. “You’ve got this.” Boone’s voice muttered to her. He slapped her shoulder and stepped back as Jo stepped forward. She’d find her courage on her way in. She was sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos feed a hungry writer. Also feel free to drop some feedback/comments/questions/concerns over at my tumblr page!  
> daraasum.tumblr.com/ask


	4. Why Don't You Do Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's still alive?

Courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to press on in the face of overwhelming fear.

Surely, if she kept telling herself that, she’d believe it.

Jo puffed her chest out and threw her shoulders back, throwing off the eerie feeling of every NCR soldier she passed watching her like hawks. They were holed up by the gate, behind their makeshift barricades, with nicer guns than she’d ever touched in her life and armor to boot. And they had the nerve to be scared of what was camped out in the building only a stone’s throw away, what she was walking into with a pistol and no plan.

Jo’s shirt felt paper-thin as a breeze blew through it. An uncomfortable prickling ran its fingers up the back of her neck, standing the short hairs on end. Her palms itched to feel the weight of her pistol in them, instead of holstered at her hip, but Jo resisted the urge and forged forward with her heart beating into her throat.

Given the choice between walking into the ruined building and kicking a cazadore nest, Jo would rather have been winding up her right leg at that moment. Shadows moved and flickered in the windows and doorway, matched up with thudding bootsteps and the sounds of hurried whispers.

Swallowing nearly hurt, her throat tightened so hard. She swallowed, coughed, and swallowed again, praying her voice wouldn’t squeak as badly as she thought it would. “Anyone… Anyone home?” She called out. The sound of her voice echoed in the silent ruin. The sounds of life in the building were muffled, and then a stranger’s voice replied.

“Stay where you are.” The voice commanded.

“I’m here to talk about the hostages.” Jo’s feet held to their spot like they’d been held down with lead boots. She wanted her gun in hand more than ever when a Khan appeared in the doorway, arms crossed and a look in his eyes that made her throat tighten harder.

“Stay.” The Khan repeated himself, motioning to someone inside to come with him when he stepped closer. A woman joined him, squinting at Jo through bruised eyes as the Khan pair approached where Jo stood. “No weapons inside.” The male Khan jabbed his finger at Jo’s hip holster. “Leave that here. She’s gonna pat you down.”

“You all get to keep your weapons,” Jo protested weakly, but didn’t stop her gun from being grabbed away from her. She nearly kicked the Khan woman in the face when she ran her hands over Jo’s legs, top to bottom, then back up to her sides. Her switchblade was pilfered from her pocket before Jo could argue to keep it. “Those aren’t weapons!” She snapped when the Khan held up Jo’s borrowed pack of cigarettes.

“Call it a toll to get in, missy.” The frisking Khan’s voice was a lazy, nasal, drawl as she stepped aside to clear Jo’s path into the building. “Get in there. Jessup’s waiting.”

Fear was bubbling into anger, filling Jo’s steps with a new determination. If she let them scare her, they’d know. They’d win. She’d never get to dole out her due revenge - or worse, never see New Vegas. Jaw set, arms crossed over her chest, Jo steadied herself with a breath and called out with her voice falling two octaves deeper than usual. “Just here to talk!”

There was shuffling inside, muffled voices, and Jo was losing her patience. “I’m coming in, then!” She declared. Her palm pressed flat against the door as it gave way to her push, creaking long and slow like it was announcing her arrival.

Three Khans were waiting inside the ruined building, all men, each one of them likely big enough to snap Jo in half if they wanted.

“Shit,” The middle Khan exclaimed. His eyes bulged and darted up and down, like he was waiting for Jo to take a lunge at him. “Shit! You stay there, Courier. Stay right fucking there!”

Jessup. A name she strained to hear over the sounds of a shovel hitting dirt, hushed talking, and the sound of a pistol being cocked.

“Thought Benny wasted you back in Goodsprings.” Jessup breathed, shaking his head slowly. “You come all this way for your Platinum Chip, Courier? Or for something else?”

“Depends on how this talk goes.” Jo let the door swing shut behind her. Her weight rested on her left leg, body lilting in the same direction, and her eyes not leaving Jessup’s. “You got the chip?”

“We’re both out of luck, sister.” Jessup’s hand twitched towards his waist. Jo nearly did the same thing, the missing weight of her pistol on her hip all too evident for her. “Don’t have it. Benny stabbed us in the back and took off for the Strip. Probably laughing at all of us from his pretty perch.”

“Benny?” Again, a name tickling the hazy edges of memories, just out of reach in a place Jo was sure was still a bit shell-shocked. Benny, a name followed with a hissed “ _shut up_!”, a shining silver pistol…

The game was rigged from the start.

“Benny, the jack-off in the suit who hired us to get the Platinum Chip off you.” Jessup spat on the floor. “Offered us a good chunk of caps for it, too. Not that he ever paid up.”

Jo snorted. “Poor babies. And now you’ve got your asses against the wall and the NCR ready to fuck you over.” She clenched her fist, savoring the satisfying _pop-pop_ of her tense knuckles. “So how do you plan on getting out of here today?”

Jessup’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared for a fraction of an instant. “NCR lets us walk out. They get the hostages back. End of story.” She had to hand it to him. Jessup knew what he wanted, and he had the balls to demand it. Unfortunately, Jo was no stranger to throwing her leg up on a table to show who really had the biggest balls in the room.

“You pissed the NCR off, Jessup.” She started slowly, perching her hands on her hips and shifting her weight to the right side, feet apart. “Even I know this is asking for rain in the Mojave, and I think the doc forgot to put a bit of my brain back.” She shook her head to one side for emphasis.  “But, I got a way with people. You can’t make nice with the soldiers now. You make nice with me.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were extorting me, courier.” Jessup snorted.

“You don’t know better. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Jo had her opening, and she’d rather tease a Bighorn than miss it. “Make me happy, Jessup. Tell me more about this Benny guy. Give me something more than just _he’s at the Strip_.”

Jessup swore under his breath, and Jo had a suspicion that it was something derogatory towards her. Most of her best negotiations involved a couple insults being thrown her way. “Conniving bitch” was one of her favorites. It just had a way of rolling off the tongue.  “Benny’s one of the Chairmen. They run one of the casinos on the Strip, the ah, The Tops if I remember right.”

“The Tops.” This was better, much better. A name, a place to find that name, and she already had the bullets to put in that name’s skull. Jo felt herself cracking a smile before she could help it. Jessup looked at her like she had radroaches coming out of her ears.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered. “You’re really gonna kill him, aren’t you?” He chuckled, and his face broke out into a matching grin. Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out something small and silver, taking the steps to offer it to Jo. “Here. Swiped this off of the snake before he ran out with our caps. Shove it up his ass when you corner him, you crazy bitch.”

It was a lighter, heavy and silver-colored, with a picture of a chick in white top and shorts with a halo and wings peering over her shoulder with a coquettish smile. Jo turned it over in her hand once, twice, and snorted. She and Benny had the same taste in gals, but even that wasn’t going to save him. “I’m a happy girl, Jessup.” Jo sighed blissfully. “Now let’s get you out of here.”

“You keep your word. You’re already a notch up from Benny.” Jessup backed off, leaning on the shop counter with arms folded.

“Hey, I’m nothing but an honorable gal.” Jo pocketed the lighter. “Now, here’s how we’re gonna do. You let the hostages go, and then the NCR hasn’t got reason to come in here and shoot all of you. They’ve got ammo. You don’t. They’ve got backup. You don’t.”

Jessup looked like he wanted to spit right in her face, but he nodded silently. Jo kept going. “Every minute you’ve got NCR troops in here, the targets on your head get bigger, Jessup. If I walk out with those hostages, they’ll let you at least get a good head start.” Jessup’s eyes narrowed. “A head start’s more than they’ll give you in an hour or two. Be smart, Jessup.”

“Damn. You’re crazy enough to make me believe you, you know.” Jessup turned to the Khans who’d watched the exchange in expressionless silence. “Get the hostages. They’re going with her.” When they didn’t move, his lips curled into a snarl. “Do it!” He snapped.

 

If _don’t turn your back on a Khan_ wasn’t a saying in the Mojave, it should have been. With the two privates marching in front of her, Jo turned from Jessup and walked out of the door. The female Khan standing just outside sneered at her. She looked down, and Jo saw her gun and switchblade in the dirt at the Khan’s feet.

“Come to Mama,” Jo muttered, bending double to grab her weapons and casting a scowl at the dry dirt sticking to the polished metal. She wasn’t the type to get sentimental about her gun, but damn if that didn’t bother her. She stood straight and nearly jumped out of her skin; The Khan’s face was an inch from hers, close enough to see sickly, yellowing skin under the charcoal smeared across her face. Jo smirked.

“Tell you what. Keep the cigs.”

She hoped beyond hope that she looked like a badass when she strode off, not a regular ass.

One of the hostages, a dirty blonde boy who didn’t even look old enough to shave, looked back at Jo for the briefest moment, and she thought that she saw his lips moving in the shape of a “thank you”. Still feeling Khan eyes in her back, Jo nodded quickly and nudged her new friends along. They were closer to the soldiers along the barricade than the ruins, and she could see eyes as wide as dinner plates peering at the trio; Closer still, and she could hear whispering, but not a soul seemed brave enough to speak aloud.

Past the gate, the privates were whisked away before Jo could even get a goodbye out, and Lieutenant Monroe was right where she left him. Like his underlings, his eyes were half to bulging. Jo puffed up, arms out, and inclined her head in as much of a bow as she felt looked appropriate. “Told you I’d do it, Lieutenant. The Khans are gonna walk, and-“

“That’s not how things are going to proceed, ma’am.”

Jo froze. Her gut twisted, and she felt cold in a way that she knew didn’t come from the night air. “What the hell- What do you mean?”

Monroe sighed. “Orders just came in. These Khans are to be eliminated, hostages or not. You have no idea how thankful I am that you got those boys out before…”

“No.” Jo interjected. “No, your hostages are out. There’s no reason to make this worse.”

“Orders are orders, ma’am.” Monroe shook his head. “I don’t like it, and I liked it less when it meant risking my boys’ lives, but you do understand that my hands are tied.”

“They don’t look too tied to me.” Jo gave Monroe’s hands a pointed look. Her chest was pounding and tightening. She could see now, every few seconds a soldier would run one way or another, with a gun or ammo box or something else in hand. They looked like they were preparing for a second battle of the Hoover Dam. “This is ridiculous.” She was laughing. Why was she laughing? “They’re cornered. They’ve got nothing you want. They’re outnumbered. Let the rats make a break for it. They’re a waste of ammo.”

“Your friend has been escorted to a safe location here in the city. If you’ll go with Private Kowalski here,” Monroe gestured to a soldier who had silently sidled up behind Jo, “He’ll take you somewhere away from the action. You’ll receive compensation for your efforts once things have settled.” The man called Kowalski said nothing, but Jo had been kicked out of enough places to know when she wasn’t being asked, she was being told.

She wouldn’t have to look Jessup in the face when he figured out what was going on. That was what Mama would have called “one of God’s little mercies”. God could shove those little mercies and save up for a big one once in a while, couldn’t he?

On the steps of the Big Horn Saloon, she heard the first popping gunshots echoing through the night. Kowalski said something about hurrying up, and Jo walked faster to keep his hand in her back from knocking her down. She wasn’t about to be a stubborn asshole about getting away from a firefight, especially when Kowalski had armor and she didn’t.

“Ike,” Kowalski called out as they walked through the door. “Stay in until we give the all clear. And Monroe said give these two-” Jo spotted Boone hunched over in one of the booths, “-Room and food and whatever. He’ll get the tab in the morning.”

The guy she assumed was Ike made some sort of noise of acknowledgement as she threw herself down across from Boone with a huff. If she strained, she could still hear gunfire. “That’s not a firefight out there.” She muttered. “It’s target practice. It’s easier than shooting bottles on a fence, I bet.” Wary, she watched Kowalski until he disappeared out of the door they’d come in. She was pissed, but she was never too pissed to turn down a payment.

“Didn’t go too well.” Boone wasn’t asking. He slid a Sunset Sarsaparilla across the table at her. Until she saw the liquid sloshing around in the bottle, Jo hadn’t had a clue how thirsty she was. Boone had even been nice enough to pop the top for her ahead of time. At least someone had been confident that she’d come out of those ruins in one piece.

“Fifty-fifty.” Jo chugged, downing nearly half the bottle before stopping to catch her breath. “Hostages got out, at least. Not that the NCR gave a damn if they did. They had orders to shoot that place to shit, hostages or not.”

A muscle twitched in Boone’s jaw.  Jo kicked the table leg. “Only one good thing I’ve got going for me right now.” Reaching into her pocket, Jo pulled out the lighter, waving the illustrated bimbo in Boone’s direction. As pissed as she was, even that couldn’t stop half a smile from cracking across her face.

“Boone, you wanna go to New Vegas?”

 


End file.
